


Unravel

by OnABadBet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 21:14:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnABadBet/pseuds/OnABadBet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You always thought there would be some kind of instant, all-consuming fallout if he ever realized exactly how you love him, exactly how not-quite-right in the head you really are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unravel

You notice in increments, where you've always imagined it would happen all at once -- the absence of his hand spread low and big on your back when you're both too tired to keep entirely upright after a hunt, the way he stops knocking his foot against yours under yellowed, cracked tabletops, the sudden regard for personal space that's never really existed before that moment.

You always thought there would be some kind of instant, all-consuming fallout if he ever realized exactly how you love him, exactly how not-quite-right in the head you really are. What you get is small distances. Frayed edges to well-worn routines that have never been there before, an unnameable off-color to every interaction that festers and leeches at your skin until you can't breathe for it and you almost wish he would just hate you instead. All this does is throw you both off balance and keep the wound bleeding.

You cave slowly under the weight of it until it claws its way up your lungs and out through your throat all at once. He looks at you with sad, tired eyes and you want him to be disgusted, you want him to hate you, you want this to be a clean cut if only so you can gather up what little left of you doesn't belong to him and leave him be. You want him to leave you be.

You're reaching out blind, thoughtless and half-unwilling -- the same way you can't help breathing or the cocksure grin that gets you in trouble more often than not or the way his name's etched so deep inside you forty years of hellfire couldn't scorch it away -- and he's pulling back in tandem, riding just out of reach. Like he can't bear the distance, but he can't give you this, either.

You know even as you smile that it's too honest, too sharp and bitter and carved-open, bloody around the edges. Every wrong thought, every aborted impulse is leaking out at the seams and you're letting it. You've lived more of your life now than not shoving this into the far reaches of your mind and stitching it up as you go. In this moment, it unravels, and you're letting it.


End file.
